Semicolon
by FraiseDandelion
Summary: Robin loses his memories, Regina must make him fall for her again. For OQPromptParty. Rated T for now.


**Title:** Semicolon

**Rated:** T for now

**A/N**: Day 7 (**Sunday**) of **OQPromptParty **based on prompt

**190.** Robin loses his memories, Regina must make him fall for her again.

* * *

It's not the end, that fact is deeply rooted in her, but still, Regina cannot help but feel as if it _is_.

The end.

The finalization of a relationship they've spent the last six years building. And all for nothing, for in the end their sacrifices, their fights, their love gave way to this ultimate spectrum of nothingness where she remembers with every vivid detail how hard he loved her, and he remembers just that, nothing.

_Nothing_.

Not those days she spent by his side as he complained throughout a common cold.

Not those times she spent loving him early in the morning, late at night, and in between.

Not those quick lunch dates, those coffee conversations, and those quiet evenings spent driving down the coast, another weekend gateway planned in the spur of the moment.

She won't have that anymore.

She won't have his undoubted love, undivided attention. Won't see his eyes sparkle the moment she enters a room, nor hear his low humming as he makes her tea.

She won't have _him_.

And yet she's cursed to remember, cursed to remember forever how he takes his coffee, cursed to remember his affliction for wearing socks during the night, cursed to remember nights slow dancing in their balcony to the sound of the city, so loud yet undisruptive to the love growing between them.

Wonder. She's cursed to wonder, wonder how their wedding would've played out if they've only gotten the chance. A chance that's now all _lost_ to her, and _forgotten_ to him.

But Regina won't cry.

She's cried enough for the last month, enough to last her a lifetime, to no avail, no changes.

Exhausted.

She's exhausted, so so exhausted of the way everything has turned out, that she just wants to leave, disappear, give up to this new present and find comfort in her past. But it's impossible, it's impossible to do so because he's still _there_, wrapped tightly around her heart even if only through memories.

Even though the man, who's now probably blowing off some steam in his bedroom, doesn't know her entirely (like he did in the past), doesn't want anything to do with her.

"Hey," a voice calls out softly, tentatively, from the sliding door, and Regina vaguely hears it close behind her, before the source of it is sitting to her left.

She doesn't say anything, doesn't turn to face the visitor, instead stares straight ahead at the forest that expands over the Locksley's home's backyard. He'd whispered how he'd loved to roam those woods, had whispered how he'd like to show his kids someday, and she'd seen those kids, in her mind, playing and roaming around following his father, a dream that's too far to reach now.

But she won't cry. No. No more.

The woman next to her sighs, and Regina just swallows and shakes her head, not needing to turn her face for she knows it's Marian, his ex, a person that once owned Robin's heart. And how unfair and complicated it is, that she has to witness everyday the recognition in his eyes, the knowledge that he _knows_ Marian, recognizes, remembers their love, but not _her, _not _hers_.

The woman who'd supported him through every injury, every bad day, every tantrum.

The woman who'd stood by his side when he'd lost his father, comforting him through the eulogy and the many days that came after.

Instead, he'll now remember Marian's words. Robin holding her hand tightly as Eugenia delivered the news for a second time. Marian wiping his tears as the man sought comfort in her arms.

Marian.

Marian standing in the place she once stood in (she should be in). Instead she'd stayed on the other seat, hating the tightening in her chest, the tears that fell as Eugenia looked at her tearfully.

It's jealousy, she knows, deeply rooted jealousy for Marian gets to have what she doesn't.

"Come on, let it all out," the young woman next to her says, sitting on the porch steps.

How terribly inadequate and completely non normal, to have the full support of your fiancé's ex. If only she'd know what was just going through her mind.

Regina simply shakes her head, swallowing back the tears, the bile, the hateful words that are trying to escape her. She's not that person. She's not that vile, because deep down she knows that Marian has been nothing but a blessing, a wonderful help as they all try to navigate through these unknown waters.

At Regina's lack of attention, Marian just sighs and lands a hand on her back, rubbing it slowly.

"Eugenia is talking to him right now Regina. He'll come around," Marian mentions, so hopeful.

"I'm not sure I want that," Regina says slowly, so slowly while staring at the night sky.

Marian frowns and she shakes her head, scoffing. "So you're giving up?"

At that Regina turns to face the woman, eyes glistening with tears and they just stare at one another, the woman who's lost everything and the woman whose life remains intact. And though she wants to reply, to scream at her, to give in to the rage and jealousy that she feels deep down, Regina just stares, and then, out of nowhere, she just cries, cries because she doesn't know what she's doing, cries because the one constant in her life has been Robin, was Robin, and now without him she just feels… lost, oh so lost.

"Come here," the woman whispers, sharing a few tears of her own as she hugs her closer, rubbing her arm up and down in hopes to be comforting. Like she'd done to Robin. But Marian? Marian is not an idiot, she knows that no matter what she does, or says it won't be enough to alleviate the pain Regina's going through. But one thing's for sure, she can't have the other woman giving up, not when she'd seen how Robin's eyes would light up when he talked about her. Not when she'd seen how distraught he'd get whenever they had a fight or disagreement. Not when she'd seen how excited he was over the prospect of planning a wedding with her.

No.

Marian won't let her give up.

"I don't know what to do," Regina confesses after a moment, sighing and staring straight ahead.

Marian just smiles at her, eyes shining with pride as she whispers. "You make him fall in love with you."

But Regina frowns at her and shakes her head, refusing to even give it consideration. "Marian you saw him, he doesn't, he's not," she sighs and shakes her head. "He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"And who told you that? Because I certainly didn't hear that fall from his lips, or from his expression?" Marian says, arching her brow.

"He doesn't know me," Regina replies, arms crossing in front of her chest.

"He doesn't know you _yet_. Regina, he fell hard for you once. He will do it again. He's in there, somewhere, i just know it."

"I wouldn't even know how to do it."

"By not giving up on him."

.::.

He's… angry, and extremely sad.

This woman. This Regina has been there every day for the past month, every day hoping and hoping to get a different answer, hopeful eyes, love in her eyes and he feels like… shit.

He's seen pictures, on her phone, on Granny's album, on facebook. Has heard the quiet whispers whenever visitors come or that day he went out with Marian for some coffee with some friends, Regina choosing to stay behind with Granny, and he knows, logically, that there's history there, between there. John had said it. Eugenia had said it. Regina had said it. Even Marian had told him. Of their engagement. Their relationship. The many vacations he and Regina had spent together.

Yet Nothing. Rings. A. Bell.

He doesn't remember that smile.

He doesn't remember that face.

He doesn't remember that voice.

And it annoys him, it annoys him that his brain has betrayed him in the most awful of ways, hurting someone he, apparently, loved a lot.

It doesn't help that she's gorgeous. Gorgeous and always hopeful and apparently his fiancé. But still. He can't remember. He can't remember the first time he met her. Can't remember the first time he'd kissed her. Can't remember the Caribbean, where he'd professed his love.

He just can't.

Frustrated, Robin sits on his bed, hands on his head, holding his head tightly as he tries to breathe in and breathe out, tries to alleviate the headache that's beginning to brew.

But then Granny walks in, not even bothering to knock and Robin closes his eyes, expecting a screaming match, but instead the older woman closes the door quietly behind her and crosses her arms in front of her chest, waiting for his gaze to settle on her.

"Apologize to her," is what Granny says, simply, firmly.

And if it had come from another person, Robin would've burst out into countless reasons over why he won't do it, he's overwhelmed and frustrated after all. But it's Granny, and Granny has always been the most level-headed person of his family.

"That girl has been standing by your side during every tantrum, every doctor's appointment, even though you don't know her, even though you don't care at all of the history. And yes, sure, it's understandable because you don't remember her, but that girl has been a part of this family for the past six years, I consider her another grandchild of mine, and I won't tolerate you behaving that way towards her ever again. Understand?"

He finds himself nodding along, absentmindedly, not having the guts or words to reply. For the guilt that had plagued him every since he'd talked a mere few minutes ago is arising again. Has been ever present. But she'd been insisting, too insisting, too hopeful as she'd showed him an album she'd prepared, and he'd been too angry, at himself, at her insistence, at his hopelessness and it just happened. He'd snapped, instantly regretting it at the shocked look on her face.

Robin shakes his head, and looks up at the older woman from the bed, feeling like a small boy again. "I'm not who she wants me to be, Granny," he whispers tearfully, voice cracking.

But Eugenia is angrily shaking her head, taking no shit as she firmly stomps her feet. "And she's well aware of that fact. You may have lost your memories, Robin, but they're very intact in her mind and on top of that she has to deal with the what could've been of the life she'll no longer share with you. So, maybe you should try and be more considerate of her."

And though he doesn't remember their love, their years spent together, and their adventures, he feels his heart breaks at Granny's comment, his eyes welling with tears, hating the situation he's been put in, but hating more fate's treatment on her.

After a moment, Granny sighs before sitting next to him on the bed, and pulling him in for a hug, sharing a few tears of her own.

.::.

Regina's not giving up. Well, not entirely, but she admits to herself that staying in this house everyday for the past month, even though Granny insisted, is a bit too much for him, and even more for her.

So she packs, even though her heart is breaking a little bit by the prospect of letting him go. She begins the meticulous act of folding her clothes, placing it on her suitcase, her slight OCD coming into place.

She's focused on the task, sighing when there's a knock on the door.

"Hey," _his_ voice echoes around the small room and Regina hates how her heart clenches, her throat constricting.

"So you're really leaving," he sighs behind her and Regina nods, not turning to face him, instead freezing at the sight of his NYU shirt in her arms.

And that brings forth a new onset of emotions.

It had been this shirt, the one she'd thrown over her body as she rushed to the hospital. The same shirt she'd pulled off him the night before, losing herself in the kisses he kept dropping over and over again on her neck. God, how she loved that, to feel his lips pressed against her skin, the warmth of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth. She might never get to feel that again.

"Am I seeing you again?" He asks, and it sounds hopeful, desperate almost and Regina just swallows hard and nods.

"Just… less. I don't want to overextend my stay."

"You know you're not imposing."

"I know. But… I have to, you know," she shrugs, trying not to break as she whispers, "I have to keep going."

"Regina," he chuckles drily and shakes his head, but she interrupts him.

"I want to do right by us, by you. I don't want to force any memories onto you. I don't want you to feel like you owe me _this_, because you don't. You've lost your memories, Robin, that's a new reality. That's _my_ new reality, and I can't keep hoping and expecting them to return. I _have_ to go on," she finishes firmly, even though her voice trembles, even though tears are threatening to fall, even though Marian's words echo in her head.

Robin just stares, straight at her, for a minute, and then nods. Resigns to it. And then, softly, oh so softly, he whispers, "I know I can't offer you my love. I know I'm not… _him_. I'm not what you want. Regina, I know that it will never be enough, but can we, can we be friends?"

It kills her, to start over again, particularly with him, but she just smiles sadly, and then nods.

And then he leans in and hugs her, hugs her like he used to, and then just holds her. Holds her the same way he used to in their kitchen as they cooked, or in the bathroom after a pregnancy test came out negative (what they were praying for yet they were still disappointed by the result). Regina can't help herself but close her eyes, breathe him in, and swallows back a sob, for with her eyes closed, with his scent permeating all that is her, she can pretend that it's him, it's _him_ and everything has been just a bad dream, a nightmare, he remembers, he remembers.

He remembers.

But he breaks the hug after a moment, eyes shining with unshed tears that frankly she wasn't expecting.

"I'm sorry," he says, brokenly, a tear falling from his eyes.

And it's always worked like that, she's always the strong one, until she sees someone else crying, and so she cries too, a sob escaping her.

"No, no," she says, shaking her head quickly, coughing through the tightening in her throat. "It's not your fault," she murmurs, angrily wiping her eyes, only for another sob to escape her the moment she feels the cold metal of their engagement ring pressing to her cheek.

She lowers her hands and looks at the ring, that beautiful rose gold band with a pear cut diamond, and another set of tears fall, remembering his proposal. Remembering his nervous rambles, his frustration when his date, his perfect date had been "_ruined_" by a blackout. He'd been frustrated that night, angry as he explained how the steak was undercooked and the potatoes were raw but he'd still hope she'd accept being his wife. She'd laughed at that, cried and jumped into his arms, never before having felt such joy.

And now, never before she's felt such grief.

Grief at the metal that's found a home on her finger.

Grief once again at what she's lost.

Robin just looks at her, tearfully, as if he knows what comes next. And Regina just nods, resigns to this new reality, ignores Marian's words echoing in her head, ignores the slight hope she'd felt at the prospect of making him fall again, and slowly, almost as if in slow motion, reaches for the ring and slips it out of her finger.

"You don't have to do that," he whispers, almost desperately, voice trembling.

To which she shakes her head and swallows hard. "Yes, I have to," Regina whispers as she reaches for his hand, ignoring his complaints. "You once told me I had to stop living in the past," she places her hand on his palm, ring falling onto it slowly as she whispers, "_this_ is the past."

And now he's the one crying, silently, as he closes his grip over the ring, tightly.

"I have to go," she whispers.

"Can I," he says suddenly, only to shake his head.

"What," she asks on a near whisper.

But then he's swallowing hard, whispering he's sorry as he leans in, tentatively, his lips meeting hers slightly. Simply. And then, too quickly, he breaks the kiss, Regina staring at him wide eyed as he takes a step back, murmuring apologies all the while. Regina just shakes her head, lips trembling (God, she misses him), still in shock.

"It's okay. I… I needed that," she confesses letting out a deep breath and shaking her head. Because she did need it. Needed that physical touch, to let her know with evidence that he in fact survived, that he is here, right now.

And as long as he remains here, there could be a _new_ chance for their love.

But not now.

Now she needs the grief, needs to feel the loss of him, needs to bask on it so she can evolve, become better, and find full strength to fight for them both.


End file.
